Lyrics to My Heart
by Belle Gold
Summary: Jo is suffering from a broken heart. She and her now ex-boyfriend have called it quits, and now, they begin the awkward phase of moving on. Set in Storybrook, Maine, Jo attends Storybrook Community College, and runs into Mr. Gold, who can help her heal the wounds in her heart. But, will she let him in?
1. Chapter 1

Lyrics to My Heart

_Hello darkness my old friend_

_I've come to talk with you again…_

Simon and Garfunkel's words enveloped me as I walked through the crowded halls of Storybrook Community College. I was listening to Sounds of Silence on my IPod, their haunting voices singing in my ears as I walked with my head down.

Why was my head down? I had several reasons for that. One, my grandmother always told me to keep your head down in life, and just muddle through the difficulties as best you can. It's honestly the best advice she's ever given me. Two, I had just gone through the WORST breakup with my now ex-boyfriend, and having to face facts with the people who knew us as a great couple. Yeah, it's the best feeling in the world to fail at something, and then have to come to terms with it.

Anyways, I opened the front door of the building, and walked the long trek towards the parking lot. Everything around me moved in slow motion, the students that walked past me, the cars that whizzed by, even the squirrels that were climbing the trees.

A red Chevy sped off, not allowing me to cross within the crosswalk, and I froze like a deer in headlights. My throat closed up. My eyes welled up with the memory. Him and I, sitting in his red Chevy Cobalt, laughing and having a great time. The long drives we'd take to the beach in the summer. The way he'd turn to smile at me when we stopped at a red light.

I clutched at my chest, and fell to the ground, the pain too immense. I curled up in a ball on the sidewalk, sobbing from those painful memories that I just couldn't get rid of.

"Miss," said a voice from above me. "Are you alright?"

My ear buds had fallen out, and I blinked through the haze of tears. I made out the face of a distinguished looking man wearing an impeccable suit and carrying a cane. "I-I will be fine," I stammered as I got to my feet. "It's nothing."

"Are you absolutely sure, dearie?" asked the gentleman. He looked me over, concern spreading across his face. "You look very pale."

"I'll be fine. Just a few more steps until I get to the car." I forced an "I'm okay" grin on my face, and the man seemed to have bought it.

"May I at least get your name?" asked the man.

"Jo," I said quietly, not really wanting to tell him. "And… you are?"

"Mr. Gold, at your service," said the man with a small bow. "And if there is anything I can do to help you, please don't hesitate to ask, dearie."

"I really must go," I said as I dusted myself off.

"Farewell, Jo," said Mr. Gold. "I have a strange feeling we will meet again very soon."

"Fat chance on that," I muttered under my breath as soon as I reached the safe confines of my car. I turned the key in the ignition, and sped off towards home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man - yeah!_

_And didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?_

_Honey, you know I did!_

_And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough._

_But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough._

_I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,_

_Take it!_

_Take another little piece of my heart now, baby!_

_Oh, oh, break it!_

_Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah._

_Oh, oh, have a!_

_Have another little piece of my heart now, baby._

_You know you got it if it makes you feel good._

_Oh, yes indeed._

Janis Joplin's voice blared in my ears as I drove on the parkway back home. Dr. Thomas was right, the woman sang like she was a goddess in pain. Janis felt my pain, and I could feel hers. She'd had her heart broken by some jerk just like I had. And no matter what either of us did, it would never fix the gaping hole in our hearts. Janis and I both gave everything, and all we got was pain.

The tears were coming once more, and I began to sob hysterically now. "Fucking bastard!" I screamed as the guitar solo played on my car radio. "Why did he have to fucking hurt me?!"

Why? How? What? When? I had a thousand questions, but no answers to any of them. And it was more painful not knowing. It had only been a week, and already I wanted to go crawling back to him despite what my friends said.

"Don't even think about it," said Ruby as she polished the counter of Granny's Diner. "There's a reason why it happened."

"You both broke it off, and said hurtful things," said Cindy. "I don't think you should forgive him, especially for not helping you out when you needed it the most."

I thought back to when I did ask the jerk to do me a favor. I was a member of the Phi Theta Kappa honors society club, and we were having our monthly bake sale in a few days. My mother had bailed on me, dad had the floral shop to run, and none of my friends could make it. So, knowing that the piece of shit was available to assist me, I called him up on my cell phone, and asked him to do me a favor for charity's sake, and take a ride with me to school to drop off a case of water and sweets. I would have class for a few hours, and then I would drive us both back home.

His response was a warmhearted "No, babe, I can't help you because I don't want to be stuck at your school for hours waiting until you got out of class."

I suggested that we take two separate cars, and then the man I thought loved me stuck the knife into my heart. "Why should I have to waste my gas by commuting that far?"

"Fine, babe," I said huffily. "I will do it without your help."

"No, no!" he replied hastily. "If you need me, I will be there."

"I will be fine," I said, trying not to break down. "Thanks for understanding…"

Needless to say, I broke down, and dumped his ass to the curb. That was a rousing conversation in and of itself. "I loved you, but I don't love you anymore…" "If that's the way you feel…" "If that's what you want…"

I drove on, and thought about driving into the chasm below. I didn't want to live anymore. I had no purpose, no love in my life, nothing to really live for. My mother wanted me to leave the house, my father backed my mother, and I was dealing with a painful breakup and current depression that was slowly spiraling out of control. Death would be an easy way out.


	3. Chapter 3

_Don't concern yourself_

_With this mess you've left for me._

_I can clean it up, you see_

_Just as long as you're gone._

I scoffed at The Wreckers' Leave the Pieces as it played on the radio. If only it was that simple.

I saw the bastard everywhere, because when you live in a place like Storybrook, Maine, you see and know pretty much everyone. Also, I just so happen to currently work with the lowlife. Yeah, boy was that a terrible mistake to make…

I pulled into the driveway of my house, and breathed a sigh of relief that no one was home. Finally, some time for me to be alone.

I unlocked the door, and let myself in, tossing my school bags and coat to the side as I raced up the stairs to set a hot bath. I let the hot water run scalding hot, just the way I like it, and poured in vanilla lavender scented bath salts. The aroma was soothing and relaxing, and before long, the tub was filled. I sank into the water with a sigh of comfort, and just as I was about to close my eyes, the telephone rang.

I groaned. "Why do telemarketers have to friggen call while I am taking a damn bath?!" I shouted as I tried my best to ignore the blaring phone. "Ah, let them leave a message!"

Sure enough, the answering machine picked up the message. "Hello, this is Mr. Gold calling for Miss Jo Rondot. We met in the parking lot. I am on the board of student services, and I would like you to contact me in regards to your incident today. My number is 939 665 6549. Please give me a call. Thank you."

There was a click, and the line went dead.

I rolled my eyes before settling back into my bath, and letting the scents drift me away from the hell that I had ultimately created for myself.

If ever someone decides to play matchmaker with you, do yourself a favor: DON'T EVER GO THROUGH WITH IT!

I was matched up with shit for brains through a friend, and at first, things were great. We were in the honeymoon phase of the relationship where nothing could possibly go wrong. He was easy to talk to, and we spilled our deepest secrets to one another.

Then came the fall, and when you fall, you don't just crash, you shatter into a million little pieces.

Not only did the biggest waste of sperm and egg refuse to help me with a charity event, he also was the world's biggest con artist and liar. All of those times he told me that he loved me, all of those times I accepted the costume jewelry from him for Christmas and my birthday, all of those times I never went out with him because he was broke, was a lie. He never loved me. He was a fucking cheapskate when it came to me, and he was never broke. He wanted to spend his money only on himself, and to him, I was not worth anything.

My kisses meant nothing. My heart meant nothing. My love meant nothing. Therefore, I was nothing.

Never in my life have I ever wanted to just obliviate myself so badly. I wanted something, anything that would take care of this aching, screaming, painful feeling for good.

The days did not get better, they elongated my pain. Every day was a blur of the same shit; go to school, come home, go to work, see his face, deal with the pain, go home. Dealing with the breakup at work was a nightmare. Everyone's side comments about their opinions on me, his mother coming in to cause more upset towards me, him always around me no matter how I tried to distance myself. I was slowly going out of my mind with each passing day.

Nothing got better, even my home life. Without having the bastard there to console me every time I had family issues, I now had to tackle on my problems by myself. My finger itched for the trigger, to immediately dial his number on my cell phone. I couldn't help it, old habits die hard, and so I would call him every so often, asking for a shoulder to cry on.

Such situations one thinks will help us to mend sometimes lead us to destruction.


End file.
